Cal arrived at seven with dinner in a paper bag and a packet of plasters.
Tess looked at the plasters.
“For your shoes,” he said. “You told me they were rubbing.”
“That was ages ago.”
“It was last year. But they're the same shoes.”
She glanced down. They were the same shoes, the ones she had worn at Mara's on Monday. She'd complained about them to Cal in a message once, before the long gaps had begun.
“I could buy different shoes,” she said.
“You could. These were easier to carry.”
She took the packet and put it beside the kettle. Then she kissed him in the doorway, holding his face between her hands so the food bag knocked gently against her leg.
“Come in.”
They had chosen dinner on the phone. Neither of them had been hungry at the time, and the description of the noodles had sounded good: rich sauce, vegetables, something crisp on top. Cal had ordered two portions, collected them and brought them over without checking.
Tess fetched plates. He opened the containers.
The sauce was red. Very red.
“That looks warm,” she said.
“You said you liked spicy.”
“I said I didn't mind a bit.”
“I heard liked.”
She gave him a fork. They tasted it standing at the counter.
For a moment it was delicious. Then Tess put the fork down and coughed. Cal was already reaching for water.
“No,” she said, breathless. “Not a bit.”
He drank, swallowed and nodded. His eyes were watering.
“I might have ordered the wrong sauce.”
She looked at the label. “You did.”
“You chose it.”
“I chose the one above it.”
He leaned over her shoulder to read. His breath was warm against her neck, though neither of them could enjoy that properly while trying not to cough.
“Right,” he said. “That's mine.”
Tess started laughing. She tried to stop because it made her throat hurt, and that made it worse. Cal laughed too, quietly at first, then bent over the counter with one hand flat beside the plate.
They tried adding a little of the plain noodles to the edge of the sauce. It didn't help enough. Tess put the lids back on before they wasted the whole evening proving they could eat something they didn't want.
“Toast?” she asked.
“Toast.”
She gave him butter. He found plates and moved the dinner containers into the fridge. She hadn't left enough space, so they had to rearrange two shelves. He held the little yogurt pots while she lifted a bowl, and one fell against his shirt.
“Careful,” she said.
“You gave me six.”
“Four.”
“It feels like six.”
They got everything in. Then they ate buttered toast at the table Tess had cleared that afternoon, with the two café biscuits on a plate between them.
It wasn't a dinner anyone would photograph. Tess liked sitting there in her own kitchen while Cal caught toast crumbs with his palm and put them back on his plate.
He broke a biscuit and gave her the darker end without ceremony.
She took it, then picked a small piece from his half because she wanted that too.
“Now you're stealing,” he said.
The word made them both pause.
Cal looked at her. Tess looked down at the biscuit.
“That was a bad choice of word,” he said.
“A bit.”
He put his half on her plate. She shook her head and pushed it back toward him.
“Eat your biscuit.”
He did. A few minutes later she was laughing again, because he had somehow got butter on his sleeve and was trying to fold it under so she wouldn't see.
After they washed up, Tess asked whether he wanted to walk.
“Yes.”
She changed her shoes instead of using a plaster. Cal watched her put the old pair neatly side by side.
“After all that,” he said.
“I'll use them another day.”
She put the packet in the drawer where she kept things she actually needed.
Outside, the evening was cool. They walked through streets Tess knew and Cal didn't know quite as well. She took him down a narrow path between two gardens because it came out near a little square with a tree in the middle.
“I always think that goes nowhere,” he said.
“It goes here.”
He looked around. “You've been keeping useful secrets.”
“A path isn't a secret.”
“You didn't tell me about it.”
“You didn't ask.”
She smiled as she said it, and this time neither of them needed to stop smiling.
They sat on the low wall around the tree. Cal put his arm behind her, his hand warm through her coat. Tess leaned against him.
His phone lit in his hand.
She saw the quick downward glance before he turned it over. It was familiar enough to make her stiffen.
“What time do you need to leave?” she asked.
“I don't.”
“That's not an answer.”
“It is. I'm not meeting anyone.”
He looked at her properly.
“I've got the whole evening. I said I would.”
“Then why look?”
He turned the phone over. A weather notification covered the screen. He dismissed it and put the phone in his pocket.
“Habit,” he said. “I wasn't doing anything.”
“You used to do that just before you went.”
“I know.”
Tess looked toward the little path. She could let it pass. She could spend the next hour pretending not to notice if he checked again.
“I want to finish the evening,” she said. “Not sit here working out when I'm supposed to let you go.”
Cal nodded. He started to say something, stopped and leaned his elbows on his knees.
“I liked having you there,” he said. “Before. Even if I only had an hour. I thought an hour was good.”
“Sometimes it was.”
“And I didn't think enough about the rest of your night.”
She watched him rub his palms together.
“I shouldn't have kept saying I had other plans,” she said.
“Did you?”
“Sometimes. Sometimes I went home and ate something out of the fridge.”
He looked unhappy. Tess waited.
“I'd rather you asked me,” he said.
“I just did.”
He smiled a little. “Yes. You did.”
She moved closer. He put his arm around her again, and she kissed him before he could turn another useful sentence into something she had to answer.
He kissed her back at once. His hand came to her cheek, thumb moving gently near her ear. Tess could feel how much he wanted her close. She put her palm against his chest and leaned into him until he laughed softly and caught her so they wouldn't slip off the wall.
“There's a tree behind us,” he said.
“I know.”
“Just checking.”
She kissed him again. They stayed there until she was cold enough to put her hands inside his coat pockets. He stood and pulled her up with him.
“Back?” he asked.
“Back.”
They walked home hand in hand. At her door Tess hesitated, though she knew what she wanted.
“Come in again.”
Cal nodded. “Yes.”
He followed her upstairs. The table was clear now except for the biscuit plate, with crumbs at one edge. Tess put the kettle on and reached for two cups.
They sat on her sofa afterward, warm under the blanket she usually used alone. She kissed him whenever she felt like it, once interrupting him halfway through a story he'd almost finished.
He made her let him finish. Then he pulled her close.